


Happy Birthday

by Miss_Vile



Series: Nygmobblepot One Shots [13]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Birthday Cake, Dorks in Love, Eddie is still sorting through some STUFF ok, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pre-Relationship, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:01:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22824520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Vile/pseuds/Miss_Vile
Summary: What was the point in celebrating his birthday anyway? He certainly didn't need some arbitrary excuse to throw a party in his honor! He was content to just let the date of his birth fade into obscurity. He could toast to his health and spoils in private and never have to worry about April Fool's ever again... Oswald had other plans.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Series: Nygmobblepot One Shots [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1396144
Comments: 14
Kudos: 87





	Happy Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> It's my birthday today so have a short and sweet birthday cake fic! I'm also hoping that this will make up for the emotional turmoil I am about to put you all through with my other stories... WELP. Hope you enjoy!

Fate was a fan of mischief. At least that's what Edward thought whenever he looked at the calendar and saw that his birthday shared a date with April Fool's Day. Other kids would taunt him every year and imply that his existence was some cruel cosmic prank. It didn't change the older he got. No one even bothered coming up with anything new. It was the same thing each and every time. To his peers, they were innocent enough jokes but Ed was already exhausted by the time his feet hit the floor.

Growing up, his parents always spent his birthday at the bar lamenting the fact they allowed him to be born in the first place. The only presents he received were more chores or a beating of some kind. He never even got so much as a birthday cake. The one time he decided to celebrate was his first birthday after he'd changed his name and moved into his apartment at 805 Grundy. He'd placed a candle into a cupcake but the whole thing was just so horribly depressing and ridiculous that he threw it away.

What was the point in celebrating his birthday anyway? He certainly didn't need some arbitrary excuse to throw a party in his honor! He was content to just let the date of his birth fade into obscurity. He could toast to his health and spoils in private and never have to worry about April Fool's ever again.

Oswald had other plans. He called Ed the night before and insisted that Ed join him for drinks the next day. The Penguin, as always, was a sentimentalist. He once asked how he would like to celebrate his birthday and scoffed at the idea of ignoring it altogether.

“Nonsense! You are my dearest friend and I am happy to have you in my life. At least allow _me_ to celebrate!” he would say

Edward figured he might as well get this over with. If he was going to spend his birthday with someone, it would be Oswald. They had fallen back into the comfort of one another's company. After the bridges were repaired and Gotham returned to some semblance of normalcy, he'd offered to let Edward stay with him at the mansion. It had been a tempting offer but there was a knife twisting in Edward's gut that prevented him from accepting his hospitality. Instead, Edward slept on the cold floors of his safe house. It was what he deserved, anyway. Gone were the times of opulent mansions and downy beds.

“Oswald?” Edward called out from the foyer. The Van Dahl mansion was just as he'd left it. Edward heard a loud crash and rushed toward the kitchen. The sight before him was interesting, to say the least.

“Don't say _anything.”_ Oswald glared up at him from the floor. He was covered from head to toe in bright green cake batter and fruit compote.

Edward bit down hard on his bottom lip to keep from laughing in his friend's face.

“Well, don't just stand there!” Oswald flapped his arms, “Help me up!”

Edward helped him to his feet and struggled to stifle his laughter, “What were you doing down there exactly?”

Oswald sighed, “I was trying to make you a cake and failed. Obviously.”

“A... cake?” Edward cocked his head to the side.

“For your birthday, you idiot.” Oswald angrily wiped the green batter down the front of his apron before slamming to down on the counter with an exasperated huff.

“You know you don't have to.”

“I know that. But I wanted to.” He stared at the mess in front of him, “Not like it mattered.”

Edward looked over at the mess, “Impatient as always, I see.”

“What's _that_ supposed to mean?” Oswald bit back at the insult

“You have to let the cake cool before you apply frosting, Oswald.” Edward raised an eyebrow

“Oh... I knew that.” Oswald rolled his eyes

“How did it end up all over...” he gestured at Oswald, “...you?”

“I got frustrated! Then I heard you at the door and decided to cut my losses and just hide the disaster. But then I slipped and dropped the damn thing.”

Edward looked over at the picture of the cake in the cookbook. It was one of Ed's that he'd left behind when he moved out of the mansion. The cake was elegant in presentation. Two simple layers with fruit in the middle and a light cream cheese frosting. Oswald had seen to dying the cake batter his favorite shade of green.

“It was a lovely thought.” Edward smiled

“Perhaps you were right about Fate being cruel to you on your birthday. Every time I attempt to be nice, _something_ ruins it.”

The first birthday since meeting Oswald had been spent locked in a cell at Arkham. The second opportunity was spent with Edward as a centerpiece. Then there was No Man's Land...

“I'm sure we can still salvage this.” Edward said, taking a forkful of the cake into his mouth.

“Wait!” Oswald exclaimed, mortified.

Edward stared at his friend wide-eyed before taking another forkful from the mound of cake, fruit, and whipped frosting that was still on the counter, “Oswald, this is delicious.”

“You're just saying that.” Oswald blushed

“I'm really not!” Edward laughed

Oswald had never been much of a cook. He notoriously over-seasoned or attempted to experiment with different combinations that rarely worked well together. Edward had never tried any of Oswald's baking, however. Oswald talked in length about how his mother loved to bake. Breads of all assortment, pastries, and cakes. They didn't have money for ingredients often and so she perfected the art of baking to make the most out of what they had. There was nothing more tragic than an oven full of burned cookies when you don't have the money to buy more sugar. It seemed that baking was a skill she passed onto Oswald. Edward silently kicked himself for having never known that about his friend. So many wasted opportunities...

His mouth watered as he took a bite of the compote, “Did you cook the fruit in bourbon?”

“It was a recipe I found in the pantry.” Oswald commented, “The bottle of Balvenie you got me after I won the Mayoral race was still here and I didn't want it to go to waste.”

Edward nearly choked on a cherry, “That bottle of whiskey was fifty years old... and you used it to make a fruit filling for my birthday cake?”

“Yes... Well...” he blushed, “You have expensive tastes.”

Edward couldn't stop himself from looking Oswald up and down. He was slaving away in the kitchen and yet he was still bedecked in one of his nicest suits. He even wore the emerald cuff links that Edward admired. Edward cleared his throat and then took another bite.

“Are you seriously going to eat that?” Oswald tried taking the fork away from him but Ed just scooped the tray up with his other hand and carried it to the other side of the island.

“You made it for me! Of course I'm going to eat it.”

“You're ridiculous.” Oswald rolled his eyes, “Well, happy birthday... I suppose.”

Edward swallowed and, in one swift movement, scooped his feathered friend up in his arms, “Thank you, Oswald. This is the best birthday I've ever had.”

“You must have had some pretty miserable birthdays.”

“You have no idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> Great. Now I'm hungry.


End file.
